Latter Day Sinner

Chapter 1

Frank hadn't meant to break the window. That isn't to say that he hadn't gone out that evening looking for trouble, or even that he hadn't meant to break any window. He just never meant to break that window in particular. When he'd thrown the (admittedly, probably oversized) brick, he'd been aiming for the abandoned pen factory. Unfortunately for him, his arm was a little better than he'd thought, and he watched, almost as if in slow motion, as the object soared through the air and crashed through the church's stained glass window. It had once been adorned with the illuminating image of Jesus with a lamb cradled in his arms. It was an image he knew well from his childhood, when his parents still had enough power to force him into church. He remembered the way the sun would crawl through the blue haze early on Sunday mornings, and the brilliant way the reds and blues would shine onto his own pale skin, like a summertime kaleidoscope. Until the moment he heard the deafening crash, he had almost forgotten the sight.
He wondered vaguely if it was considered a sin to break a church window. He assumed it must be – the way the Lord's face was caved in, like he'd been struck with a divine fist, was sure to be blasphemous.
After the crash, three things registered in Frank's mind all at once. The first, was the sound of his friends running away, making noises that varied from amusement to mild terror. The second, was – and he wondered why he hadn't noticed this previously – there were lights coming from the small home directly next to the church. He'd lived in this town long enough to know that this was usually where the pastor lived – though, he hadn't been to church in so long that he had no idea who that was.
The third thing he noticed was the door of the house opening, and a figure peering out. He was too far away to get a good look at him, but he was certain of one thing – he was about to meet the new pastor.

Maybe it was because he was nervous, but it seemed to Frank that it took the man an unusually long time to get to him. For a moment, he considered running, but he knew that he'd already been seen. Besides – Frank Iero was not a coward. At least if he stayed and faced up to what he'd done, he'd have the moral high-ground over his friends, and therefore had the right to mock them, at least until they redeemed themselves.
As the man approached, Frank realised why he was taking so long to get to him – he was walking with a cane. It seemed peculiar to him, considering that, from what he could see, the man wasn't that old. Perhaps in his early fourties, at the latest. Frank wouldn't have said that he was too young to be a priest, per se, but he was younger than the ones they'd had previously, who tended to be in their 70s or 80s.
"D-don't move!" the man called, beginning to teeter forward a little faster. Frank sighed and held his hands up in surrender, moving closer. Priests couldn't carry guns, could they?
"I'm not going anywhere, sir," Frank replied, taking a few more steps forward. There was a few moments pause in which the man moved closer, but eventually he stopped relatively close to Frank. He could have only been maybe three or four feet taller than Frank (who, to be fair, was shorter than average), and had a mess of black hair on his head. He was currently wearing a dark purple bathrobe, under which Frank assumed he had on pyjamas. Round reading glasses rested on his thin, upturned nose, and Frank felt vaguely sorry that he'd clearly interrupted his evening. The younger boy swallowed.
"I'm sorry for the window, sir," he said, his voice soft and to his ears, genuine. The priest glanced up, looking blank for a moment.
"I don't know you, do I? I mean – you don't go to church?" he asked. Frank blushed and laughed weakly.
"Ah, no sir. My parents do, though. The Ieros?" he asked. The priest's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and he seemed to go blank again, before nodding slowly.
"I know them. That means you're Frank, yes?" he asked, looking at him curiously from over the edge of his glasses. Frank smiled.
"Yes, sir, that's me," he told him. For some reason, he felt himself repressing the urge to bow, or something equally as lame. Huh. The priest pursed his lips and held his hand out.
"I'm Father Way. Or Gerard, if we're outside of church," he said, his voice polite, and with a cold edge that, for whatever reason, made Frank vaguely uncomfortable. Regardless, he shook the older man's hand.
"I'm real sorry about your window, sir. It was an accident," he said weakly. Gerard looked over the boy and, to his surprise, smirked. It was a gesture that Frank really didn't expect to come from a priest. It sort of ruined the stoic vibe.
"Come on now, Frank. I know your parents. They confess to me weekly. And although I can't share with you what they've said, I must say – they are concerned about you. This isn't the first time something like this has happened." His tone was condescending, but his lips were still quirked up with the remnants of his smile. Frank laughed nervously, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. After a moment, he seemed to think better of it and took them out.
"I mean, I'm no, uh, saint –" he glanced up, cheeks reddening – "but I'm not the kind of kid to intentionally fuck up a church," he explained. It took him about three seconds to realise he'd sworn in front of priest.
"Shit. Sorry. Oh, fuck. Sorry, I-"
Gerard laughed, shaking his head.
"It's okay. We're not in Church," he reminded him. His smile turned from amused to fond. From their brief conversation, and Frank's apparent nervousness and unease, he pretty much realised that Frank really wasn't that bad a person. Troubled, yes. Self-destructive, almost certainly. But he wasn't lost. That is to say, Gerard wasn't ready to give up hope. Gerard was quiet for a moment, his nails clicking a little against the wooden stick. As if by trigger, Frank began to click his lip ring against his teeth to mimic the noise.
"Okay, Frank. I have an idea," he said, his voice cool. Frank looked up, eyebrows raised and interest piqued.
"Yes, sir?" he asked. Gerard blushed and smiled softly.
"Firstly, don't call me sir. It makes me feel old. Secondly – how about you come to my place for some tea, and we can work out how you can make up the window to me. Sound good?" he asked. Normally, this would be where Frank would make some excuse why he couldn't and disappear – but he didn't feel any desire to. Maybe it was the kind, warm look in the priest's eyes, or the fact that he was being so calm about the whole thing, but Frank found himself nodding.
"Yeah, okay," he agreed softly, without any reluctance. Gerard grinned – this only proved to him that Frank really wasn't a lost cause. Not in the least.